"possessors" poems
He hugged me
Tears running down his face
I felt him shudder
For the whole human race
Just who condemned him
Has always been clear
The righteous
The believers
The possessors
Of fear
Yet sympathy
I felt
For the Devil
Himself
Because forgiveness
Runs through my veins...
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 9:46 PM UTC
The entitled ones:
Snotty, stuck up, rude
Nasty, spoiled prudes
Your misery, their fun
Loosen up your buns, entitled ones
‘Cause I am in no mood
To harbor your attitude
And snooty snippy sayings sung
The desk between us that which divides
Does not right you to be snide
Entitled ones need not apply
Entitled are entitled nigh
The ones who earn entitlement
Are the ones who give respect
Possessors of this enlightenment
Such respect is what they’ll get
Treat your servers as you will with such level of pomposity
But understand that I abide by way of reciprocity
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
Because gods perceive future things, men what is happening now,
but wise men perceive approaching things.
Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, VIII, 7.
Men know what is happening now.
The gods know the things of the future,
the full and sole possessors of all lights.
Of the future things, wise men perceive
approaching things. Their hearing
is sometimes, during serious studies,
disturbed. The mystical clamor
of approaching events reaches them.
And they heed it with reverence. While outside
on the street, the peoples hear nothing at all.Because gods perceive future things, men what is happening now,
but wise men perceive approaching things.
Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, VIII, 7.
Men know what is happening now.
The gods know the things of the future,
the full and sole possessors of all lights.
Of the future things, wise men perceive
approaching things. Their hearing
is sometimes, during serious studies,
disturbed. The mystical clamor
of approaching events reaches them.
And they heed it with reverence. While outside
on the street, the peoples hear nothing at all.
5.2k
When the forests have been destroyed their darkness remains
The ash the great walker follows the possessors
Forever
Nothing they will come to is real
Nor for long
Over the watercourses
Like ducks in the time of the ducks
The ghosts of the villages trail in the sky
Making a new twilight
Rain falls into the open eyes of the dead
Again again with its pointless sound
When the moon finds them they are the color of everything
The nights disappear like bruises but nothing is healed
The dead go away like bruises
The blood vanishes into the poisoned farmlands
Pain the horizon
Remains
Overhead the seasons rock
They are paper bells
Calling to nothing living
The possessors move everywhere under Death their star
Like columns of smoke they advance into the shadows
Like thin flames with no light
They with no past
And fire their only future
4.8k
*The star splits
Into numerous fragments
As per the will of heavens
The fragments awaken
And choose their possessors
Merging with their hearts
A new power inside them arise*
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 12:31 PM UTC
Why is it so, Oh why is it so
That the owners of capital
Inevitably grow
To be possessors of everything
Strategically placed,
Solidly, tangibly
Gunmetal faced?
Owners of newspapers
Head of TV,
Masters of radio
Commercial and free.
Dispensers of policy
Spreaders of gloss,
Keep movers informed
Keep fools at a loss.
Like a puppeteer General
Manipulate strings
Of artillery thunder
And stratosphere wings.
Subliminal ownership
Military wise
Guarantees power
And fortifies ties.
Holding the cards
In Congressional spheres
Ensures positive influence
To leadership ears.
Holding sway
In the ship of state
Commands control
Of those who rate.
Power to publish,
Power to spin,
Manipulative power
To politically win.
Power to generate
Mountains of wealth,
Marauding powers
Of infinite stealth.
Solidly, tangibly
Gunmetal faced,
Owners of capital
Strategically placed.
Controllers of influence
Puller of strings,
Powerful Anchors
...Societal Kings.
Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
23 March 2009
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 12:53 AM UTC
To prayers,
To calls, where the path has long been sealed away by fate.
An angels legend, the rumours spread across a deserted hell,
Is it a demon who fell into this world by some kind of well ?
The mirroring magic, a banishing sword, responding to their possessors in hope to set raging potential free, in hope to be of use,
But is it the end of the road when a demon awaits your calling ?
Only your heart is responsible for letting the whispering deceive you,
The positve and negative, those two who manipulate the ways of our thinking, are always around you, lingering, waiting, striving, for a chance to overthrow the other to have an impact on your vision,
How will you respond to either outcome without being tricked ?
It is from now until the moment you die, it is from now until the end of time, your senses are responsive upon your every second of life,
Every single one of us lives depending on and bound by our knowledge and awareness, this is our own little reality
But always remember, both knowledge and awareness are equivocal,
So what makes you so sure that this reality of yours is not an illusion?
~ Umi
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC
Here...take hold my eyes--
wear them.
What do you see...my presence,
or my absence?
There...I'll take hold your eyes--
wear them.
What do I see...your presence,
or your absence?
If we both communicate a
presence and absence...then
where do you leave off, and I
begin?
It may be from this viewpoint
we are not the sole possessors of
our eyes.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
Look at the faces around you,
What do you see?
Happiness, sadness, joy?
These faces are shrouded
By the masks of their possessors.
We all ware them, everywhere we go.
Life is one fantastic Masquerade,
But its time For you to see the true identity
Of your dancing partner.
But wouldn't that take away the novelty-
Of what the mask stands for?
The unknown-the thrill-the mystery-
Take the novelty of you and me?
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 8:41 PM UTC
Freezing cells into place
Carved-out space
Most of the possessors are
****** queens
with unseeable crowns
and tethered gowns
The particles assemble, dissemble
And in their midst
Oh, how I tremble
-cj
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
The devil sneezed
Achoo such a lonely cold
Better safe than sorry
Stay away from
Those ****** possessors
Keep my blessed bacteria
All to myself
He thought then looked
Outside the window
Rainy day so harmonious
With his love for tragic endings
Like tears of generations
All the souls devil ever took
Feeling them close and cozy
Achoo ****** they're all gone
Too sick to get myself
Some meds to soothe the
Void some **** to break the
Repetition, amphetamines
To finish the business
Day and night never ending
Chain of over and over and over
Bored through and through
Down to his creativity
Down to all the drowned passions
And old memories jumping over the fire
With a yawn
Hot and cold and ever lasting
Dissatisfaction
ACHOO this might just be the end of it
Wouldn't change much
But don't mind the change of scenery
Too tired to flip the switch
Already happened a while ago
Achoooo-ally
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
Seducers of the sky above,
Drinkers of the salty sea,
Oh, possessors of the earth below,
How I wish I never existed,
How I wish the Gods never existed,
You are gradually fading away the
Splendid beauty of my true existence,
Yes, the tornadoes and the hurricanes
And the thunderclap and the fire
Shall always accompany your existence,
Oh yes, I am about to express
My distaste for your order,
The beautiful part of my nature
Have you consciously eroded,
But the thunder-Gods shall surely
Deal with you relentlessly,
Hmm, everyone that knows your works
Shall have a nasty story to tell your kind,
For your passion for wealth and excellence
Has imprison my wretched soul
And has divided my living bones,
Mother earth has no more pleasure in you,
Before your unforgiving existence,
Truly, I knew the story of the
Old one and his nature,
Wait and experience my mighty right arm,
Always shall you seek
My indefinite destruction,
Always shall I seek indefinite
Vengeance on your children’s children,
Unfortunately, it is ignorance that
Makes the rat attack the cat.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
The simple things in life
Bring smiles to the weak
So small and childlike
The simple we should seek.
To a child, the world is nothing
Just a shadow among weeds.
For a smile from his Father
Is the only thing he needs.
Love- what means this word?
Unconditional and sweet
A child has accomplished,
Though we are at defeat.
We- caught up in worthlessness
Chase the wind, we are bound
Seeking for significance
When emptiness is found.
Children- possessors of wisdom
In sweet simplicity lay
Teach us truth in your innocence
You lead us not astray.
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 2:45 PM UTC
we are the possessors of hair
whose instincts
tell us to wrap it around our neck,
we think about
bottling our spines in jars
for good luck.
in the summer
our veins fade into our tans
as if drawn on with a teal colored pencil
and we powder our flesh to look like
sugar cubes instead.
this hatred and this worship of
our bodies
translates into
an aversion to our fluids as if to touch them
is to slurp creek water
but it is not poison: it is magic
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
Let Appraisers be consulted; Let the sages have their say-
Surely somebody can tell me the true value of one day.
I’m asking for the value of one spinning of this globe;
What’s the cash surrender value of the hours that unfold?
Is it worth its weight in sunshine, in deep breaths and loving glances;
This treasure trove of hours, all disguised as second chances?
The seconds are fine grains of gold; the minutes slip away,
Our memories the only store of value for one day.
We are like ruined millionaires, who, idle in our play,
were possessors of a fortune, but then ****** it all away.
I ask the value of one day; pleased don’t think me glib or clever,
But it appreciates tremendously –when you do not have forever.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 3:56 AM UTC
Life is an impartial balance
From its beginning to its end
It weighs you not as a foe
Nor does it weigh you as a friend
It comes to you uninvited
In the dark within the womb
Then leaves without consent
And you are laid within the tomb
Life cares not if you be rich or poor
Life cares not if you be strong or lame
Life comes to each just as they are
To life, we are all the same
Life does not possess us
Rather, we are possessors of life
Possessors of its many joys
Possessors of its many strifes
Pursue life to its utmost meaning
Do ! That ,within your heart you know
For life is not your friend
Nor is life your foe
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 7:46 AM UTC
no longer sheathed by the living skin of the land
ancients of the deep shriek in unholy abhorrence
as they make their rapturous ascent to the heavens,
seeking not salvation that they’ve forsaken,
but the evisceration of a former home.
it is malice not earthly tar that stains
bulging scleras and hissing pulses
placated only by wine tastes of sin.
these apparatuses remain ever silent
to eternally bask in the presence of Her.
Her who invokes the name of salvation.
Her, melichrous.
Her, scintillant.
composed of polished crystal embellishments
must have the creature once relinquished
the bipedal form to humanity in exchange
for spherical inconvenience.
renounced and disdained
by the possessors of illusory superiority
the mousy predecessors of righteousness
trod lightly through emotional labyrinths
only seeking to sate their vampiric empathy.
Her seeks this suffering of the corrupt
where the must be bound in crude scales
packed amongst their parasitical kin.
alexia unbound wreaks havoc in their stead
manifesting in serpentine coils which match
the tongue slithers out cryptic hymns.
Her must and will be subject to judgement,
durum hoc est sed ita lex scripta est.
and does this serpent mimic the rhythmic
folding to suit its needs as Her is bound
once more to the Mire
never to breach the heavenly dome
void of living skin wrappings.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
the end gets harsh. many of you
now fall pray to doubt.
nobody forces anybody, but somebody,
nevertheless, must give the orders.
the acids have grown lazy and fat.
something more cruel than they are must be found.
if you give up now, if you do it now of all times,
neither the tomb nor the sky will cover you sufficiently.
you are the possessors of the alternative and this is
the only one. that's why i've talked to you about her
in so many ways.
the little that is about to disappear lies now
only in you and in your power.
a black shell pulls to the shore.
i didn't say that everybody is climbing aboard.
but the quiet fright with which we work on the stars
will stop them from falling for a while.
Ioan Es. Pop, from the livid worlds
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 4:58 PM UTC